


Hearth Fires

by SLiverofJade



Category: Psy-Changeling - Nalini Singh
Genre: Abusive Christianity, Abusive Parents, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Assault, Autumn, Bad French, Bakery, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Bigotry & Prejudice, Cajun French, Cake, Cupcakes, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fantastic Racism, Français | French, Future, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Meet-Ugly, Nationalism, Pack Bonding, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Past Child Abuse, Police, Police Brutality, Psionics, Racism, Racist Language, Science Fiction, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Were-Creatures, Werebabies, Werecats, abusive grandparents, smoky mountains
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-08-08 13:53:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16430669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLiverofJade/pseuds/SLiverofJade
Summary: Lorel Maddox just wants to live as a human, run her bakery in peace, and forget.  Unfortunately, the alpha of the local leopard pack has very different ideas.Remi Denier doesn't know what to make of the female Changeling who wants nothing to do with him or the RainFire pack.  He does know that he has a driving need to protect her.  Even if it's from herself.While they're embroiled in a battle of wills, there's a war brewing on the horizon.  The outside threat could not only destroy everything they hold dear, but tear apart the fragile new bonds of the Trinity Accord, plunging the world into bloodshed to rival the Territorial Wars of centuries past.





	1. Ultimatum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you follow my other works in progress, I promise I am not abandoning them! I only recently (re)discovered outlining, which is absolutely essential for someone who has problems with the big picture of their stories. 
> 
> The family situation is getting worse, then there's the already burgeoning holiday stress and my own health problems, and I needed some low-stress fluff to re-set my brain while trying to figure out how to fix the corners I wrote myself into in my other works. Then again, fluff for me means banter, angst, and sexual tension. And I felt like trying to emulate Nalini Singh's writing style as an exercise, partly because I've been binge re-reading her Psy-Changeling and Guild Hunter series.
> 
> Naturally, this will be a multi-chapter beast because I don't know how to do anything in moderation.

Lorel hummed along to the bluesy song that twined with the smells of dozens of sweet things filling the air.  Swinging her hips slightly from side to side, she counted out the day’s totals to figure out what to bake tomorrow.  The maple pecan cupcakes were sold out, as were the pear sticky buns. Maybe she’d switch it up for the weekend and make chai cupcakes and maple sticky buns.

As she tallied, she mentally designed an upcoming wedding cake order.  The couple wanted silver accents, which was in vogue and nearly to the point of tired and overdone.  Maybe arabesque flowers outlined in a royal blue and the silver? She could gild edges of sugar paste flowers.  Would it be too on the nose to mimic the flowers in the bride’s bouquet?

The door opened almost soundlessly.  One of the first things she’d done was rip the bell off; the jangling was hell on Changeling hearing.  Finishing up the note she was in the middle of, she turned around to greet the customer.

“Hi, how can I help you?”  The chirpy greeting died off as her nose caught up.

Spices like cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla had temporarily masked the threat that had snuck up on her.  A threat that smelled like moss and oak, and a dominant predatory Changeling male. Her blood turned to ice water.  The power of him filled the shop and had her animal in a crouch, waiting to see whether she should run or would have to fight.  She wiped her palms on her apron and plastered on a smile that probably more closely resembled a grimace.

The stranger scanned her with a coolly appraising eye from the top of her frizzy hair to her flour-dusted hands.  She froze in place and focused on his right shoulder to avoid eye contact while still watching him like a rabbit he’d decided was dinner.  Fear spiked in her scent, strong enough that even she could smell it over the mixture filling the place, and he could probably hear the thundering of her heart.  He turned, locked the door, and turned the sign to closed. Her cat was clawing at her to run far, climb high, but she was too busy doing her best impression of a deer in headlights to pay attention.

His presence, reinforced by his actions, could only mean he wanted one of two things: either he wanted her gone or he wanted her for himself.

“Ms. Cain, I’m Remi Denier, Alpha o’ the RainFire Pack.  Please, ‘ave a seat so we can talk.” The bayou dripped like Spanish moss from his words.  He pulled a chair from one of the bistro tables by the front window and gestured for her to take the other seat.   _He’s laying the Southern gentleman routine on thick_ , she snorted inwardly.

“It’s Maddox now, and I’m comfortable right here.”  The strained pitch to her tone gave lie to the statement.  She shifted her weight in preparation to dash out the back door.

“Ya won’ get very far, Ms. Maddox,” he drawled mildly, his brilliant topaz eyes flashed gold.  The alpha, and he certainly looked the part at somewhere over six feet with line-backer shoulders, sat where he could watch both the front door and the one that led to the kitchen.  He stretched out long, jeans-clad legs; he was making himself at home. On her turf. “I ‘ave de alley covered.”

“What did I do to deserve such an honour, Mr. Denier?” she asked crisply and folded her arms.  While she wouldn’t stand a chance against a predatory Changeling Alpha determined to hurt her, that didn’t mean she would go down without a fight.  She just had to wait for her chance.

“You’re in my terr’tory.”  His eyes had gone leopard-gold.  Shit. Heart hammering, she felt her cat settle into a crouch in preparation for a pounce.  Adrenaline dumped into her bloodstream and she wanted to bare her teeth at the threat, but strangled the urge before her lips did more than twitch.

“No pack can control a mixed-race city, and your border ends at the Madison-Haywood line.”  She had made certain before she took over the bakery. Their boundary was the next county over.  The flash in his eyes and the low growl said without words that the cat didn’t care about semantics.

“RainFire does now.  Say, could I get a cup o’ coffee?”  His accent was so thick she could practically cut it with a knife.

“Sorry, I’m not in the habit of feeding strays.”  The acerbic retort popped out of her mouth before she knew what she was saying.  Swallowing, she dropped her hands to fist at her sides in preparation for a full shift and not just the talons that had sprouted from her fingertips.

Remi Denier didn’t attack, didn’t even growl.  To her utter surprise, he laughed. The sound was rich and filled the bakery like the tones of a brass bell.  Her cat cocked its head in confusion.

“We’re small and growin’, jus’ expanded our claim last month,” he explained, spreading large hands wide.  And she had purchased the shop five weeks ago, which was when she’d checked that no shifter groups had marked the area as theirs.

“I took over this place before that.  I won’t be run off my land.” Said land wasn’t even an acre in total, and it was technically just the home she shared with her aunt since the shop was on a lease, but it was hers.  Every survival instinct screamed at her to stop challenging him, even as her animal wanted to go for his throat.

“I never said not’ing ‘bout chasin’ you off.  Jus’ like knowin’ who’s in my terr’tory,” he shrugged and hooked an arm around the back of the seat.  The relaxed posture didn’t fool her one whit; one didn’t become an alpha without catlike reflexes.

“You already know that if you know my name.”  She folded her arms again and leaned back against the counter behind her.

“Lack o’ criminal record don’ mean much.”   _Lord ain’t that the truth_ , she silently agreed.

“Not much to know,” Lorel said aloud.  “Raised by my human grandparents, some university, bounced around some, and then my aunt wanted to retire.  But you probably knew all that already.”

“You were born into the RedRock pack.”  Her stomach sank.

“I was just a kid, I don’t remember much.”  She leashed the need to snarl at the alpha. She couldn’t expose any potential weaknesses.  If he thought she was hiding something she’d never get rid of him until he uncovered it.  Damn cats.

* * *

“Never joined another pack.”  A statement, not a question. He already knew the answer, he just wanted to see if she would lie to him.

“Never saw the need.”  Rounded shoulders rose and fell jerkily instead of in the fluid way they should have moved in feline Changelings.  Remi filed that away the same as he had the talons that appeared when she’d thrown out the crack about strays. It wasn’t the first time he’d been called that, and no doubt it wouldn’t be the last.  Then there was the fear, more than was to be expected. His leopard didn’t like that; submissive Changelings should feel safe and protected with dominants, even strange ones who’d shown they intended no harm.

Well, no lasting harm, anyway.

“Never felt need for family?”

“I have family.”  Lorelei gestured around the bakery that had been her aunt’s.  While she couldn’t make eye contact, the hard ice in her voice hinted at a hidden backbone, a reminder that submissive was not synonymous with doormat.

“But do they understand you?”  That spine, which was already rigid, snapped so straight he worried it would crack under the strain.  Judging by the white lines of her mouth she probably wasn’t about to reply any time soon, but the lack of answer was an answer in itself.

If he was a better man, he’d feel bad about baiting a woman so far down the hierarchy she didn’t even risk a glance at his eyes for fear he’d see it as a challenge.  As it was, he only felt a twinge of guilt. The most extensive background check in the world couldn’t tell him how she would react under duress. Being cornered, no matter how temporarily, with a strange, dominant predatory Changeling alpha was an effective stress test for most people.

“Unless you’ve got a sweet tooth, I think you’ve wasted your time, Mr. Denier.”  Her folded arms shifted, pushing her breasts up even higher until they nearly spilled over the heart-shaped top of her apron.  Instead of plain black canvas, hers was an ice blue that brought out the colour of her eyes, with cupcakes decorating the full skirt and ruffles of the same fabric edging the bodice.

“Hmm…”  He gave her a slow once-over.  Damn if she didn’t look like a treat herself with generous curves and freckles sprinkled generously over her creamy skin.  “Not worth the cavities.” Her jaw dropped in affront at the deliberate provocation.

“I promise I’ll only stick to the woods in this county, and I’ll let you know if I have to cross through your territory,” she said firmly, recovering quickly from the barb.  “I just want to run my business and not cause any trouble.”

Her cat was no doubt pissed he’d invaded her territory, but her eyes never flashed gold.  Other than the tiny shift to claws briefly, her other half never surfaced; as an alpha, he could tell.  If he hadn’t known beyond a doubt (his nose never lied) what she was, he wouldn’t have guessed that she was a Changeling.  A few slips on her part were to be expected under the circumstances, which was a large part of the reason why he was there in the first place; he needed to see how she reacted.  But the sheer amount of control she had was bizarre for someone who had only lived among humans.

“How ‘bout you join RainFire?”

She gaped at him.

“No!” she cried once she realized he was serious.  Remi waited for her to elaborate upon her refusal.

“Why not?” he asked when it was obvious nothing else was forthcoming.  She continued to stare at him as if he were a few bricks shy of a load.

“Leopard,” she said slowly, pointing to him.  “Ocelot,” she pressed one hand over her heart.  Each word was carefully pronounced.

“DarkRiver has a jaguar and a lynx.  We have a tiger,” he shrugged. Lorelei seemed genuinely taken aback by that; she must have deliberately avoided any and all news touching upon Changelings.  “The old way of thinking was hurting more’n it was helping. No room for that in RainFire. Is it because of what happened at RedRock?” Women typically didn’t respond well to his bluntness unless he was seducing them, and by her full body flinch, Lorelei It’s-Maddox-Now-Thank-You-Very-Much was no exception to the rule.

“You want an honest answer?”  Thin ginger brows climbed up her freckled forehead.  When he nodded, she pushed off the counter with muttered “fine” and a deep sigh.

Remi scowled at that, but she continued before he could say anything.

“I just want to be left alone and nothing you can say will change my mind.”  She folded her arms again, her pink lips pursed into a bow that was probably poutier than she realized.

“You’ve managed pretty well on your own, sticking to mostly human areas.”  When he stood and stretched to his full height her breathing quickened, but otherwise she gave no sign of being intimidated.  “How well do you think you’ll do now without pack to protect you? On your own, you’re prey for Psy, non-predatory Changelings with a ‘tite more dominance on you, even cunning humans.”

“Is that a threat, Mr. Denier?”  Her face was a bloodless mask, but she held his gaze with a hard stare of her own.  The contact only lasted as long as it took a heart to beat, but he felt electricity shoot through his body.  It wasn’t entirely sexual, despite his reaction. There was something off about her he just couldn’t put his finger on.

“No, but this is.”  The scent of fear sweat filled his nose.  “You’ve got one month to either join RainFire or leave town.  Au revoir, Ms. Maddox.” With a shallow nod of his head, he strode out the door and into the warm autumn afternoon.


	2. Sneaky Like a Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm re-reading Silver Silence, and stole this chapter's title from Valentin's advice to himself. It seemed highly appropriate.  
> I'm a bit of a language nerd. I can kinda soak them up, particularly in their written versions, pretty well. The evolution of Louisiana French is interesting because it basically takes Acadian French and drifts it, then splices in Choctaw. And it appears to share some quirks and sentence structure with French Creoles. I'm not sure if that's due to sharing a "parent" language (I don't know enough about French to say) or due to cultural exchange in the region.  
> The Cajun French in this chapter comes from articles written by native speakers and cross-referenced with other articles or simply plugged into google to see if it matches. Then if I need to conjugate something or figure out sentence structure/grammar, I'll run it by my spouse who speaks a fair amount of Quebec French (which evolved from Acadian, too).

Remi entered a familiar code into the comm screen and sprawled out on the large cushions scattered around the main floor of his aerie.  Waiting for the call to connect, he cracked his beer and took a swig. His stomach rumbled, making him wish he’d at least gotten a cupcake before scaring the piss out of the little baker.

He knew she didn’t intend any harm to the pack.  But sometimes what happened wasn’t what one intended, as he knew very well.  Just like he hadn’t intended to throw out that ultimatum. He’d wanted to get a sense of her and make the offer.  Then she’d turned him down and it was like his brain had switched off and his alpha hindbrain had taken over.

It wasn’t the first time he’d been turned down since he started building RainFire; it was, however, the first time a lone submissive female had said no.  Generally, ones like her didn’t go roaming for as long as she had. The feeling that something was amiss with her hadn’t left him, like an itch that he just couldn’t scratch.

“I’m flattered I’m your drunk dial,” Lucas Hunter said dryly, “but I have a mate.”

“I’d’ve to be drinkin’ bad hooch to be drunk dialin’ your laide tchew,” he snorted.  “And I’d hope it’d make me blind.”

“I love you, too.” He reached down out of view of the screen and picked up a little, black cub by the scruff of her neck.  Naya purred loudly enough that Remi could hear it and butted her forehead against Lucas’ face, even though her body continued to dangle limply in his grasp.

“You know better than that,” Lucas frowned at her, unfazed by the cute affection, and tapped her nose.  The responding mewl was adorable enough to pierce even the most jaded heart. “No, you can’t have a cookie, but you can say hi to Remi.”  He pointed to the screen and set her on his lap. A fluffy black tail rose high and curled at the end in greeting.

“Quoi se fais du mal, possede?”  His cat stopped its irritated pacing and chuffed in amusement at the pair of bright green eyes that now took up most of the screen as she leaned in to greet him.

“She’s been using my chair as a scratching post.”  Remi coughed to cover a laugh at the other man’s deadpan expression that barely hid his amusement.  At the recount of her misdeed, she flopped onto her back and put one paw over an eye as if to say “oops.”  Hunter had answered in his office at DarkRiver HQ. If he’d been at home, which had cushions instead of traditional furniture much like Remi’s own, his daughter would have sharpened her claws on a tree instead.  “Can you make it quick? I have a meeting in ten.”

Remi laid out the situation to Lucas, who listened without interruption.

“She says she didn’t know ‘bout the expansion.”  He spread his hands wide.

“You posted to Packnet?”  Hunter referred to the network utilized by Changelings all across the world.  Even loners used it, primarily to keep track of claimed territory to avoid accidentally trespassing.  A mistake meant death for a predatory Changeling.

“’Course I did,” Remi snapped in frustration.  Lucas let that one slide. “Damnedest thing is she says she’s never heard of it!”  He ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Bullshit,” he snorted, then darted a glance at Naya, who’d climbed up to drape herself across his shoulders.  “You just don’t like your options.”

“Could you run a submissive off your lands?” he snarled.  Lucas gave a low warning growl to remind him that they were both alphas; his cub stopped kneading his shoulders and her ears swivelled forward, looking for the threat.  Remi had to rein his cat in before they got into a pissing match; it had been on edge since he stepped into the bakery. The animal, too, was disturbed with the mystery that was Lorelei Cain Maddox.

“Buy her land, her mortgage, and any other debt out from under her if she doesn’t play ball.  It doesn’t have to come to combat.” A ruthless solution from an alpha who was as accustomed to fighting in the boardroom as he was with teeth and claws.  The merciless alpha stroked his daughter’s back, lulling her back to her sleepy state. He looked like a damn villain when he did that in that chair.

“Mais.”  Blowing out a breath, he took another drink to give himself time to consider the suggestion.  He shouldn’t have made the offer at all if she made his hackles rise, not until he figured out why.  Now he had to deal with the fallout and any leverage would serve to protect the pack, even if he didn’t use it to force her hand.  “Might have to. She looked like she’d rather chew an arm off than listen to me.”

“I can’t blame her if you were your usual charming self.”  Remi flipped him the bird, but there was no heat in his accompanying glare.  Lucas snorted a laugh. “You can’t help those who don’t want to be helped, you need to focus on your own.  If she won’t play ball with you, she might with your enemies.”

“Ca me rapelle, there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.  I’m forwarding you something.” He set his bottle down and fired off the email as he spoke.  “Several folks in town reported receiving this.”

“’Trinity’s Goal is Human Genocide’,” Lucas read the subject line with a snort.  “’We won’t be replaced, trying to take power, subjugate the human race…’ Yeah, we had something like this awhile back, so did StoneWater.  Do you know where it came from?”

“We got someone working to trace it.  I was wonderin’ if your people have time to look at it, might be tied to the one you mentioned.”  He wasn’t above asking for help to keep his pack safe, and the older pack had resources that RainFire simply didn’t have yet.

“It might be the same group, but extremists tend to use the same catchphrases; it’s like they just swap out the nouns.  I recommend keeping your sentinels on alert.” Remi nodded. He’d already briefed those that hadn’t brought the situation to his attention, but if this was a larger threat then they needed to know that, too.

“We’ve got some friends in the city, I’ll ask them to keep their ears to the ground.”

“This might be an individual, but if it’s a cell working to sway public opinion your friends will probably hear of it first.  I’ll have my team see what they can find.” Lucas’ eyes narrowed, but that didn’t hide the teasing glint in his green eyes that looked so much like his cat’s.  “You know, the mentorship was only meant to last the first year.” While that year had passed nearly nine months ago, the two of them had kept in regular contact.

“You don’t have to answer my calls,” he shrugged and tucked a hand behind his head.  “I could always ring up Hawke. Say, you got his number?” Hunter scowled at the mention of the SnowDancer alpha.

“Are you so hard up you’d ask a wolf for help?”

“I’m asking my Trinity representative for help with somethin’ that might be a bigger problem, but if you’re too busy…”

“Naya, say ‘adieu’ to Oncle Coonass.”  She waved her tail back and forth.

“Bye-bye, cher.”  Remi blew the cub a kiss.  “Donne la belle Sascha un bec pour moi.”  Before hanging up, Lucas gave him one last scowl for telling him to kiss his mate for the other alpha.

He pulled out his organizer and began to plot.  She might be stubborn, but he had an entire pack behind him and he wasn't afraid to use it.

* * *

 At the sound of the front door opening, Lorel set down the cranberry coloured frosting she was piping onto rows of cupcakes.  She wiped her hands off on a damp white washcloth that was already smeared pink and red with previous uses.

Stopping in the archway that led to the front, she stifled a groan.  The customer who’d entered with her daughter was a Changeling: a leopard, to be specific.  Even if she didn’t have a note in her scent that matched an element of Denier’s, she obviously had to be a member of RainFire.

She could hardly refuse to serve the woman; not only was it illegal, but it would be hypocritical.  Besides, Changelings were extremely loyal and prolific customers at their favourite restaurants due to their higher caloric requirements.  And not to mention it was probably unhealthy for her if she pissed off RainFire.

Somehow, she was sure the asshole was behind the two approaching her counter, even if she had no way of proving the suspicion.  She had seen some underhanded tactics in her time, but this was the lowest of the low. Standing up straight, she braced herself.

A little girl in a lavender tutu dress toddled up to the display case like she’d found Nirvana.  Her dark hair was tied up in loose buns that bobbled with every step of her purple, glitter rainboots.  It was impossible not to smile at the sheer joy that lit up her face, which was marked with what looked like slashes from a set of claws, yet they lacked the pigmentation and texture of scars.  They appeared to be birthmarks, albeit pale instead of dark.

“Cookie, pease?”

Seriously, those wide, guileless eyes should be registered as lethal weapons.

“What kind would you like?” Lorel asked after glancing at the adult with her to make sure it was ok.

“Dat one!”  A tiny finger pressed to the plas-glas pointed to a set of sugar cookies shaped and frosted to look like various types of leaves: green fading to brown, yellow to red, and whatever other combination had occurred to her at the time.  Lorel picked one of her favourites: a maple leaf with yellow at its centre, surrounded by orange, and turning to red at the edges. For the veins, she’d drawn a knife through the frosting to create lines of colour that bled outward through the gradations.

“Make it a dozen, please, and a dozen each of the caramel apples, the maple pecan cupcakes, and, ooh, pumpkin cheesecake snickerdoodles,” the woman said, her eyes lighting up with the last order.

She nearly did a double take.  That was her entire stock of each of those items, and over half of her seasonal items.  Not that she was about to complain. She wrapped the maple leaf in a napkin and handed it to the girl, experience telling her that it wouldn’t last enough to warrant packaging.

“Thank you!” she chirped and rose on her tiptoes to take the leaf.  The cookie was bigger than both of her hands. Settling back on her heels, she took a bite and exclaimed in delight.  Lorel struggled to breathe past the ache in her chest.

Avoiding eye contact with both of them, she quickly boxed up the goodies.  The sooner she got them out of there, the sooner she could breathe easy again.  It didn’t help that her cat was currently clawing at her with a fierce need to play with the cub.   _Kid_ , she mentally reprimanded herself.

“Is something wrong?”  Lorel stared at the other woman for a heartbeat before she realized she’d been shaking her head while silently rebuking herself.

“Oh no.”  She donned a smile like well-worn armour.  “Just talking to myself. Thinking about how many to bake tomorrow, you know?”

The customer nodded and hummed in agreement, but something in her eyes said she wasn’t buying it.  

“It must be hard to move to a town where you don’t know much of anyone and take over your aunt’s business.”

Lorel’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t trust sympathy from a cat, not even one with a child that appeared to be loved and treasured.

“Small towns, everybody knows everybody.”  The other woman shrugged off the suspicion cast her way.  “By the way, I’m Tien and this is JoJo.” JoJo was currently spinning in the sun streaming through the window and watching her skirt flare out.  The glitter in her boots flashed brilliantly in the light. With each bite of her cookie, she hummed a happy little tune.

The pang in her chest was back.

“Lorel,” she flashed her customer service smile, the small one when she wasn’t really feeling like smiling.  Luckily, she was ringing up the sale and therefore had an excuse to avoid anything more than briefly flicking her eyes at Tien.  Then she gave the total and they went through the ritual of the transaction.

“Here’s my number.”  Tien jotted down the code on a slip of paper she’d found in her purse.  “Let me know if you ever want to talk or if you ever want to… I’d say go for coffee, but,” she broke off with a laugh and gestured at the espresso machine.  “Do lunch or something.”

She couldn’t decline without being rude.  And the other woman’s smile was so broad and genuine that she smiled back despite herself.

“Thank you.”  Lorel took the scrap and slipped it into her apron; today it was yellow and edged at the bottom with lace.  The lavender flowers on it matched the full-skirted dress she wore.

“Come on, kidlet.”  Tien herded the girl towards the exit.

“Bye!”  JoJo waved and skipped out the door, offering a bite of her cookie to her mom, who accepted with an “mmm!”

Lorel sank back against the counter and thrust her hands into her pockets, idly fingering the contact number.  How could they be so happy and obviously well-adjusted in a pack with an autocratic asshole like Denier? Although, was there really any other kind of alpha?  In her admittedly limited experience, the answer was no.

And yet neither of them had, had the hollow, guarded eyes that were the result of abuse from those in power.  But Tien was on the dominant end of the hierarchy and could probably protect JoJo from the rest of the pack. She hadn’t hesitated in welcoming Lorel, no doubt the carrot to Denier’s stick, but instead was free with her cheerful welcome.  That wasn’t something she was used to.

She crumpled up the paper and tossed it in the recycler.

No matter how honest she appeared to be, Tien was still Denier’s pawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laide tchew - ugly ass  
> Quoi se fais du mal - what trouble have you been getting into?  
> Possede - literally possessed one, a term for a mischievous child  
> Mais - Literally French for “but.” According to kenwheatonwrites.com it “means “well then,” and is used to delight, shock, exasperation — any number of things. It’s almost like “dude” or “fuck” in its ability to morph into anything depending on situation, tone, delivery and other factors.”  
> Ca me rapelle - That reminds me  
> Oncle - French for uncle  
> Couillon - idiot, imbecile, funny person. In standard French, it means dickhead or bastard. I like to think that Lucas knows standard French, which helps him to understand Remi when he's slipping into his native patois. ;)  
> This was originally "coonass," which I'd heard before and therefore didn't do a cross search. Long story short, it's problematic due to a long history of racial issues in Louisiana. Since it's not my white-ass place to reclaim it or whatever I decided to change it.  
> Donne la belle Sascha un bec pour moi - give the lovely Sascha a kiss for me  
> Fun fact: "bec" can mean "kiss" and "beak." So I'll tell my cockatiels "bec la bec!" I'm easily entertained, what can I say?


	3. Feline Tactics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After recovering from the Month of Hell, I warmed up my writing muscles on this one before taking another stab at my other WIPs that I didn't outline before diving in headfirst like an idiot.  
> Also note to self, next year don't wait until November to start knitting presents, ya dumbass.

Tien and JoJo hadn’t been back but three minutes before the rest of the pack came sniffing around.  Remi could practically see their animals’ tails arched into question marks of curiosity. Taking a snickerdoodle for herself, Tien set the box on a table and stepped back to let the others swarm.

“Suddenly my cooking’s not good enough for you?” Avery scowled and folded his arms.  “Fine, then you can cook for yourselves.” The lanky male threatened to stop running the kitchen in the communal aerie whenever someone irritated him, which was nearly on a weekly basis.  He never did, though, because the offending party usually made reparations before the next mealtime.

“Hmm, it’s good enough for me, baby.”  Tien nuzzled her nose against his with the soft, lazy smile she reserved for her mate and fed him a bite of snickerdoodle.

Avery chewed thoughtfully before muttering, “Not bad.”  She stroked and petted his back until he wrapped an arm around her and fed her small bites.

“Oh man, I don’t care what you gotta do, we need this woman,” moaned Elias around a cupcake, the senior soldier’s eyes rolling back into his head.  “ _ I _ need this woman.”

“One look at you and she’d run,” Lark snorted and waved her caramel apple at him.  A few slices of pecans fell off his cupcake and Elias caught them with cat-like reflexes.  He eyed her like he was considering pelting her with them, but after a moment he tossed them in his mouth with another groan.

“Besides, why do you automatically assume she would cook?” Tien frowned at Elias.

“I’m sure I could coax the kitten into it,” he smirked and licked the frosting from his fingers.  The male never had a shortage of lovers, all of whom looked like the cat that got into the cream when they shared skin privileges. 

Normally, Remi would be more concerned about a submissive female tangling with a dominant male, particularly one as deadly as Elias was under the jokes and openly sensual nature.  Despite a face that was just shy of being beautiful and a body nearly as packed with muscle as his own, Remi doubted the other man could coax the reticent Lorelei into anything.

Remi, on the other hand, was certain he could entice her.

“She turned you down.”  Theo’s quiet, but deep, voice drowned out the yummy noises Elias was making. 

Everyone stilled and turned to look at their alpha.  Merde, he’d hoped to gloss over his failure, but it was too late.

“Do you think I’d get arrested if I kidnapped her?”  Elias’ musing broke the silence as he contemplated the best way to attack the caramel apple he held.  Remi smacked the back of his head.

“You’re a leopard, not a bear.  Act like it,” he growled. The male soldier waggled his brows and bit into the apple, nearly unhinging his jaws in order to fit the damn thing in.  His unrepentance slackened into concern when the caramel melted around his teeth and he appeared stuck.

“You’re just grumpy because she resisted your charms,” teased Lark.  The sentinel was at the back of the room and therefore safely out of smacking range.  While he knew that the teasing denoted an ease and a sense of safety, sometimes Remi braced himself to see if he would lose his temper.  Some alphas didn’t permit such familiarity, holding more Machiavellian views, and he still worried that he fell into that group.

Instead of taking it as a challenge, his leopard rolled its eyes and flopped on its side with its back to Lark. 

“I’ll remember that when the first snow hits and it’s time to do perimeter rotations.”  He narrowed his eyes at Lark.

Elias managed to break away from his sticky trap, taking half the apple with him.

“How’d she manage to defy our fearless leader?” he asked around the chunk of fruit.  Or at least that’s what Remi assumed the garbled noises coming from the soldier’s mouth were.

“Ms. Maddox doesn’t see the need for pack.”

The soldiers and maternals stared at him.  Most cats were solitary creatures, but their human halves needed community, family.  Dominants needed to protect, and maternals needed to nurture. Each needed the other to feel whole.  Even those who chose to go it alone understood those who preferred pack life.

Moreover, they could not afford to have a predatory Changeling living within their borders that wasn’t one of them, it might give ideas to those with purposes darker than creating sinful concoctions.  RainFire was just large and powerful enough to make outsiders think twice before trespassing, but there were those who would be emboldened by her presence. They couldn’t hold off many repeated comers, and they had to protect their young ones. 

None of the soldiers pointed any of that out, but they did exchange glances.  Like him, they were uneasy at the prospect of having to drive Lorelei off, their instincts wanting to bring her in where they could watch over her along with the rest of their vulnerable.  Not all of them had met the ocelot, but all were aware of her, just as they were the herd of elk that occasionally roamed through part of their area, the flight of crows to the east, and each individual non-predatory Changeling who lived on their territory.

“I do enjoy proving people wrong,” Tien said mildly into the silence, momentarily diverting the martially minded.  Sly grins broke out around the room.

“No caveman tactics,” said Remi with a pointed look at Elias, who gave him wide eyes in return.  “We’re cats; at least try and be sneaky. If you can’t figure that out, I’m sure one of the cubs could give you tips.”  Elias clasped a hand to his chest as if mortally offended, then grimaced when his t-shirt adhered to his caramel-coated hand.

“Now that you’ve all been bribed and some of you are glued to your seats.”  Elias shifted and had to pry his palm off the table he sat on. “An email has been circulating in the area.”  Remi brought it up on the screen at the front of the conference room. Everyone’s attention snapped to the display.

He smiled to himself. 

The poor baby had no idea what she was in for when an entire pack of cats focused on a single goal.

* * *

 

“Of course they want it delivered,” Lorel muttered sarcastically to herself as she bobbled along the road, which was barely deserving of the name.  A particularly large pothole had her worrying about cracking a tooth.

The hover option in her ancient sedan had given out that morning, and she had neither the time nor the money to get it looked at.  She couldn’t even appreciate the patchwork of trees because she had to keep one eye on the rutted-out dirt track and the other on the cake in the backseat.  If it bounced right up into the ceiling of the car, they weren’t getting a refund. And she was going to charge them to have the car detailed.

The donkey trail dead-ended in a turnabout circle; no buildings appeared to be in sight, the only sign of life was what looked like game trails leading off into the woods.  Did they live in burrows like animals? She didn’t think that there were any caves in this part of the mountains. 

Just as Lorel was contemplating whether or not to dump the goods and bail, a tall black woman materialized from the trees and motioned her to the right.  What she’d thought was merely a grassy berm raised on hydraulic lifts to reveal a plas-crete reinforced bunker. The guide loped inside to lead her to an empty spot amongst rows of parked vehicles.

“Come into my parlour,” she muttered as she eased into the space.  The door closed, leaving her in a dimly lit cavern. “That wasn’t ominous at all.”  She popped the back hatch and sweat burst out of every pore when she stepped into the coolly neutral atmosphere of the garage.  “That’s great, go into the leopard’s den reeking of fear.”

She was too busy muttering to herself to notice the man who swooped in and grabbed the cake before she could; she tried not to stare at his size.  The man was built like a freaking tree.

“Thanks.  Is the exit automatic or does someone need to let me out?”   _ Please say it’s automatic _ .  The man-tree was too busy admiring the neon green cake topped with black chocolate that looked like it was oozing.  She was a little worried that he might start drooling. At least the boxes of cookies and cupcakes in her hands had lids and were therefore safe from him.

“If one speck of frosting’s out of place, you get to be the one to tell Tien,” the woman warned him, and shut the hatchback.  He affected a shudder and stepped back to flank Lorel. 

The two of them shepherded her towards a door set into the wall at the back of the lot.  A bead of cold sweat slithered down the small of her back. Her cat did not like having two dominant predators at her back pushing her into unknown territory.

They led her through the thick, steel door and up a gently sloping corridor.  It would be easy to move something heavy along the slight incline, like a dead body.  And that thought certainly didn’t help her anxiety.

Her escorts ushered her through another door, also thick and steel, and into a clearing filled with sheer chaos.  JoJo ran past in a pirate costume- Lorel only recognized her because she wore the same glittery, purple boots- and a leopard cub wearing a miniature cowboy hat nipped at her heels.  Several other children, some of whom were on four paws, frolicked in a giant leaf pile at the other end of the clearing.

In the center there was a las-fire.  Most of the adults either stood in groups or sat at tables off to one side.  At one edge, far from the kids and the tables, the rest were playing a game of football.  Full contact, of course.

All in all, it was a far cry from the church gatherings her grandparents had dragged her to.  And yet, if not for the fact that they were strangers, both sides of her nature felt a curious sense of rightness, like she was home.  She shut that in a box and locked it tight before she could analyze that.

Lorel managed to follow tree-man and tall, dark, and deadly over to the tables to deposit the treats.

“Welcome to the madhouse.  Beer?”

She had to do a double take.  The man who had come up on her left with a couple of longnecks was probably the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen, with deep aquamarine eyes that contrasted against flawless, brown skin.  It was the fine angles of his face combined with the lithe musculature of his body that gave him the unreal perfection of a model. Although she preferred people who were more rugged, she could still appreciate a pretty face. 

Then she had to mentally slap herself.   _ Don’t fall for the bait _ .

“Um, no thanks,” she blinked, still attempting to process the pandemonium.

“Cider?”

“I don’t drink.  Look, I think I’d better go.”  Lorel took a step backward and ran into a wall.  A tall, warm wall.

“Runnin’, catin?” the wall rumbled in that lyrical accent.  Hairs along her arms and the nape of her neck stood at attention and she had to repress a shudder.

“Hardly.”  She turned to Remi with an arched brow.  “I would hate to trespass. I know that ruffles your fur the wrong way.”  She wanted to clap a hand over her mouth before any other snarky comments spilled out of her.

To her surprise, he merely chuckled.  Her ocelot cocked its head in confusion, having been hunkered down in a defensive crouch.

Before she could marshal her scrambled brains into some form of order, a little boy of maybe four or five clambered up Remi and clung to his back.  Without looking, the alpha put a hand back to steady the climber.

“Hey peeshwank.”  Ok, wow, that smile was dazzling enough to make even the model seem drab in comparison.

In response, the boy roared at the top of his lungs and bit Remi’s shoulder.  Since he was in human form, his mouth didn’t even fit around the hard curve of muscle, let alone do any damage.  If anything, Lorel was more worried about the child than the adult. Reaching back, Remi grabbed the kid’s ankle and hauled him around to scowl at his upside-down face.

“I’m a dinosaur!” the child giggled, his stick-straight hair hanging down in a short blonde curtain.  His free leg kicked idly so he swung slightly in his alpha’s firm, yet gentle, grip. The blue t-shirt he wore had “When I grow up, I want to be a dinosaur” blazoned across the front.

“Dinosaurs don’t bite people,” Remi scolded, a gleam dancing in his eyes that couldn’t be hidden by his glare.

“Is it ‘cuz they’re dead?”  The boy feigned innocence, widening baby blues that probably had gotten him out of trouble before, but it was his huge grin that gave him away.  Every adult in the vicinity did their best not to laugh, some succeeding more than others.

“Yep, ‘cuz I ate dem.”  With a growl, Remi lunged forward as if he was going to bite the soft belly that was exposed because the boy's shirt had bunched up around his ribcage.  The kid let out a shriek that quickly dissolved into giggles at the raspberries Remi blew above his belly button.

Just when the child looked like he might pass out from lack of air and the blood rushing to his head, Remi gently tossed him to the giant who’d escorted Lorel.  He caught the living projectile easily, his arms moving with the trajectory to cushion the landing. The kid shrieked with laughter and begged to be thrown in the pile of leaves.  His wish was granted, albeit from a low height, once his playmates got out of the way. Soon, the man was bombarded with similar demands from the other children.

She felt as if someone had clubbed her between the eyes with a two-by-four.  Of all the things she’d been led to believe when it came to Changeling packs, none of what she had seen so far fit with that understanding.  While the two men laughed and indulged the kids, she cast about for a way to slip away without being noticed and accidentally made eye contact with Tien.

The other woman took that as an invitation to come over.

“Lorel, the cake looks great!” she beamed.  “Has anyone shown you around?”

“Um, no.”  Lorel wished she could teleport herself out of there like a telekinetic; as it was, she had no idea how to extricate herself without offending nearly a hundred predatory Changelings.

“You’ve already met Angel.”  Tien pointed out the model-gorgeous man who’d offered her a drink.  He was sharing it with the woman who’d met her out front. “That’s Lark with him, her cousin Theo’s the one swamped with cubs.  And you remember Jojo.”

She gestured towards her daughter, who had joined the others frolicking in the leaves.  She disappeared in a shimmer, shifting to her leopard form, and leapt into the leaf pile.  Lorel blinked and glanced around at the adults, who carried on as if the little girl hadn’t just sprouted claws and fangs and jumped into a maelstrom of leaves and kids, some of which were human.

“You let the children run around…?” she broke off, searching for the right words.

“In leopard form?  Of course.” Tien looked at her as if anything else was unimaginable.  “She knows better by now. At least she has a spare Halloween costume,” she said with a fond sigh and rueful shake of her head.

“You’re not upset about the clothes?”  When a Changeling shifted, their clothing disintegrated around them. 

“Normally she gets a reminder, but I’ll let it go this time,” she shrugged with a nonchalance that had Lorel feeling like an invisible band had tightened around her chest.  “Got to pick your battles, you know? Did your poor grandparents ever have to rescue a naked cub from a tree?”

“Um, no.” 

“Rescue” wasn’t the word for it.  Did everyone here know her history?  Was that why they were so keen on getting her to join?  The thought of any of these strangers pitying her had claws pressing at the tips of her fingers.


	4. From the Mouths of Babes

Lorel started to demand to know how much RainFire knew about her past and how they knew, but the sound of a branch cracking overhead had her looking up.  Instinct had her on her feet and catching the cub that tumbled out of the tree.

She stared at the small leopard with wide eyes; light green eyes as large as saucers stared back while golden hickory leaves rained down around them.  The part of her that was still a scared little girl braced for the inevitable recrimination for the display of inhuman speed and her ocelot readied to fend off an attack for daring to touch one of their cubs.

“Good catch.  Jojo’s still learning what branches can or can’t hold her weight, ” Tien smiled and ruffled the tufts of hair between her daughter’s ears.  She had also leapt into action, although she’d been a few feet farther away. 

Lorel bit back a snarl, an inborn need to curl protectively up around the cub still gripped her hard, but she forced herself to pass the cub to the other woman.  Tiny claws caught in her sweater stopped her. Jojo tried to retract them, and stopped when they threatened to shred the fabric, mewling in what was obviously a plea for help. 

Tien nudged them towards a table and together they extricated Jojo from the cardigan.  Once freed, she placed her forepaws, sans claws, on Lorel’s chest and headbutted her as she purred in thanks.  The warm weight and casual affection of the girl grounded Lorel in her body in a way she hadn’t felt in a very long time.  It felt so right she almost stroked the baby soft fur.

As tempting as it was to pet the richly patterned coat, she didn’t feel like losing a hand.  She’d heard that predatory Changelings could be violently protective of their offspring. Moreover, she knew that interacting with one, especially in its animal form, was a slippery slope away from what it meant to be human.  She could feel her own cat rising to the surface, brushing insistently at the inside of her skin. Soon, she knew it would punish her with claws and teeth for denying it’s needs.

Jojo, however, had different ideas.  A fluffy head nudged at her hand, a tiny whiskered nose squirming under her fingers.  Lorel gave into the urge and gently worked her nails between the ears that seemed too large for the little head.  Jojo purred and arched into the attention, her paws doing a slow dance like she wanted to knead at Lorel’s lap, but was too well-mannered to do so.

A lump formed in her throat.  Had she once been this small and trusting?  Had she ever been this loved and cared for? Vague but colourful memories, like an impressionist painting, surfaced with the happy echoes of a childhood long past.

She felt the eyes of every adult watching her, either overtly or in darting glances.  They would kill her before she could hurt Jojo. That watchfulness was somehow reassuring.  They’d embraced their savagery to protect their youngest and that, paradoxically, allowed her to relax.  While she would never intentionally harm a child, she wasn’t so certain about her other half; she only knew she shouldn’t trust it.

A sandy-haired man in a blue plaid shirt set a few plates of food on the table and leaned down to press a kiss to Tien’s lips when she tilted her head up in welcome.  It was more than a quick peck. When his hand cupped the nape of her neck, Lorel averted her eyes. While the festivities certainly weren’t orgies like in the sordid tales with which she'd been regaled, the open affection was more than she was used to.

Jojo stood with her forepaws on the table, her nose twitching at the scent of the food, and reached out with one claw to snag a cookie.

“Hands for cookies,” Tien said as if it were an oft-repeated admonition.

A shower of multi-coloured sparks burst in Lorel’s lap; she froze for fear of interfering with the shift.  An instant later, there was a naked girl sitting on her knee. Lorel shrugged out of her cardigan and helped Jojo into it.  The soft yellow hem fell to her knees. Lorel glanced at Tien and her partner. Neither of them appeared as if anything was out of the ordinary, no cutting rebukes or punishment for being nude where others could see.  There was a twinge in her heart from memories of a very different childhood.

“This is my mate, Avery.”  Tien gestured to the man who had joined them.

Lorel was thrown by the term.  “Mate” was such a primal word that it threatened to bring a flush to her cheeks.  She didn’t have time to mull it over because Avery offered a hand as he sat next to his… wife.

“Nice to meet you.  Please eat.” He smiled and nudged a plate arranged with crispy bread and some sort of creamy dip towards her.  Meanwhile, Tien had moved the cookies away from Jojo and pushed the crudite, also arranged to be shared communally, in front of her.

Lorel opened her mouth to politely refuse, but Jojo offered up a stalk of broccoli.  She couldn’t say no to that earnest expression. Making “nomnom” noises, Lorel carefully snatched the vegetable with her teeth, making the girl giggle.

Allowing herself to relax, Lorel sat back and took the chance to look around at the people chatting, playing, and laughing. Several of the leopards looked back.  No one hid their open curiosity, but they didn’t stare either. At least they didn’t swarm her, although she suspected that if Tien wasn’t there then all bets were off.

They all seemed so... human.  No one licked their lips over the grilling meat.  Perhaps it was too well-done to salivate over? At least they didn’t have a bloody carcass roasting in a pit.  While she was no vegetarian (her physiology couldn’t handle a no-meat diet), she couldn’t have stomached such a barbaric display. 

“Not what you expected?” asked Tien.

“Not really,” she admitted.  “I know RainFire’s only a few years old, how did you get this many members?”

“Well, Remi met some of us, like Lark and Theo, when he was roaming.  Some of the sentinels, and our healer, Finn, came from packs where there weren’t many opportunities for them.”  Lorel blinked at the blithe reference to soldiers, as if their occupations were something as prosaic as accountants or teachers.  That was the darker side they tried to hide, the violence hidden with a thin veneer of humanity. “Avery and I lived on our own until I got pregnant with Jojo; we wanted her to grow up in a pack like we did.  We put our feelers out among our friends and family and heard about RainFire.”

The contentment pouring off the couple made Lorel want to wrinkle her nose.  She knew it was all a lie: love, loyalty, family. Scratch the surface and it was all illusion.  They were like everyone else, only with a public façade to lure in others. She wasn’t going to fall for that again.

“And how many were press-ganged?” she muttered under her breath.

Being accustomed to humans and Psy, Lorel had forgotten that the leopards had hearing as sharp as her own until she caught the twin glares cast her way.

* * *

 

“He said he didn’t fall, he was attacked by invisible ninja.  I asked, ‘Isn’t invisible ninja redundant?’”

Remi was only listening with half an ear to Hugo’s story of how Jasper had broken his arm while his eyes tracked Lorelei’s every move.  His leopard was restless at having an outsider in their midst. It hadn’t even reacted this strongly when he’d rescued two half-drowned Psy assassins, unarguably among the most lethal people on the planet.  Then again, neither of them were as beautiful as the ocelot.

She was short with curves like a winding back road that he wanted to explore.  The cat wanted to memorize what she smelled like without her bakery mixing with it.  Underneath the acrid layer of fear, which was lessening now that Tien had gotten her talking, she smelled sweet with a bite of spice.

He had to force himself to back off.  The need to shadow the virtual stranger in their midst was riding him hard, no matter that she appeared about as dangerous and as delicious as one of her cupcakes in that mint green dress.  Her flats, while practical indoors, sank into the thick carpet of leaves. Nor did she wear anything warmer than a butter yellow cardigan. While she was a Changeling and would be fine, most cats preferred to be warm.  He was wearing a forest-green cashmere sweater himself because he liked the texture of it, not because he was cold. 

Judging by her clothing, she hadn’t known what to expect, or no one had told her that she was a guest.  He cast a sideways glance at Elias, who gave an unrepentant shrug.

“No bear tactics involved.”  The soldier held up his hands as if to ward off a chewing out.  “All cat. But Tien might have forgotten to tell her she was invited.”  Remi and his cat were amused at their strategy. A pack circle event was meant to reinforce bonds: and thus, were perfect for introducing someone to the benefits of pack life.

“That’s smart, so I know you weren’t the brains behind the operation.”

“Au contraire.”  He pronounced it "ow contrary."  Remi rolled his eyes.  Elias spoke several languages to varying degrees of fluency, but he liked to butcher French just to yank his alpha’s chain.  “I said we should place an order for the party, Tien and Avery took it from there. So really it was all my idea.”

Remi started to formulate a quip, but stopped at the sound of Tien’s voice vibrating with anger that carried under the ambient noise.  He shifted towards the dominant maternal to hear her better.

“…here because we want to be.”

Lorelei’s response was a murmur that not even his sharp ears could pick up, but whatever it was, it cooled Tien’s temper.

“We can’t let a predatory Changeling live within our borders,” she explained.  A thread of surprise wound through her words, like she hadn’t imagined that someone of their race could be ignorant of their laws, but she was as patient as if she was addressing the juveniles. “There are some who’d assume that meant we can’t hold our territory and would press the issue.  We’re not big or strong enough yet for that.”

Pride swelled and ebbed within him.  Tien was a damn fine dominant maternal and he’d never regretted allowing her and her family to join the pack.  It was the sting of shame that tempered that pride. Most alphas, if they grew up in a functional pack, were carefully guided from a young age.  Remi partly blamed that lack of formative education for having waited so long before developing his own pack.

If he’d started building RainFire earlier, then they could have weathered the turbulence that was the fall of Silence and the subsequent restructuring of the world better.  And he wouldn’t have had to deliver an ultimatum to a single submissive Changeling whose only mistake was to live on land they needed to claim.

He huffed a laugh that brought him out of the pity party for one.  Once, being alpha of his own pack was unthinkable to him. Sometimes he looked around at his people and what they’d built together and felt as bemused as Lorelei looked.  Now he was kicking his own ass for not starting sooner. Fate was no doubt having a laugh at him.

“…dominants are driven to protect,” Avery explained.  “…sives…” The male was no doubt explaining the hierarchy to her.  Really, it should have come as no surprise that she was unfamiliar with the power structure, but he’d assumed that she knew instinctually.  Then again, he of all people should know that instincts didn’t always coincide with what experience taught.

Taking a drink of his beer, he turned to catch a glimpse of the small group.  Lorelei looked down at Jojo with an abashed expression. She had looped her arms around the girl to ensure she didn’t tumble off, not that the cub was in any danger of that.

With the innocent honesty of small children, Jojo wrinkled her nose and said, “You smell funny.”

Lorelei frowned and made a show of sniffing herself.  “I promise I showered today, with soap even.” She feigned confusion and the cub giggled.

Remi’s blood ran cold.

The slashes on Jojo’s face were more than an unusual birthmark.  They were the sign of a hunter, someone born with the skills to hunt those of their kind who went rogue, ones who subsumed themselves in their animal half.  Once they lost their humanity, they slaughtered without compunction, beginning with their loved ones.

And a hunter’s chief ability was scent.


	5. Waking Up

Remi’s cat crouched in preparation to battle with the strange predator in sheep’s clothing in their midst; pinpricks in his bottom lip were a sure sign that his teeth were more feline than human at the moment, and his claws itched to unsheath.  How could he have been so blind? He needed to eliminate the threat before anyone could question his leadership, a lethal strike to prove his dominance.

  
That thought wasn’t him.  It was an echo of another alpha from another time and brought him out of the homicidal haze with a cold splash of dread.  He had to shove the memories and the associated sick feeling in his gut into a box in order to concentrate on the situation at hand.

  
Holding himself with a predator’s stillness, he studied his prey.  Whenever one of his packmates was unduly intimidated by someone, outsider or not, he and the pack kept a close eye on that individual.  He didn’t haul off and rip their throat out. He could hardly bring her down in front of their youngest in the middle of what was meant to be a celebration.  Such casual exposure to violence could damage young psyches, as well he knew. Yet, it was all he could do not to charge over there and tear the ocelot away from the little family.  Unlike that other alpha, he couldn’t act upon suspicion alone.

  
The baby hunter had no compunctions about cuddling up to Lorelei, something she would never have done if Lorelei was even close to going rogue.  Moreover, several cubs surrounded her now, curious about the visitor. Their youngest, hunter or otherwise, were some of the best judges of character and the best litmus test when it came to the health of a pack.  It was when the adults didn’t pay attention that problems arose.

  
_“He’s different.”_

 _  
_ _“Oh sweetie, of course he is.  He lost his mate. You’ll understand when you’re older.”_

  
He shook off the echoes of the past like his cat shook off water and shoved them back in the box.

  
The music had switched from general background party music to a dance mix, which made overhearing their conversation difficult even with his superior hearing.  Moving closer, he stopped at one of the tables of food so he could eavesdrop without being noticed. Staring at the ocelot would only put her on her guard.

 

Lorelei didn’t appear on the verge of a rampage; rather, she seemed overwhelmed.  Then again, who wouldn’t be when surrounded by the cubs who were peppering her with questions?  His tension eased a fraction when he saw that none of them appeared scared of her.

  
“Just you and your nana and papa?”  Remi couldn’t help a small smile at Jasper’s wide-eyed incredulity.  Most of their little ones had grown up in packs or in extended family units at the very least.  Such a small family without ties to dozens of “aunties” and “uncles,” as well as numerous friends of all ages, was an unthinkable concept to them.

  
The interrogation wandered into what type of cat she was since she smelled different and, to his knowledge, none of them had met an ocelot.  They were much smaller than leopards and the children would probably be delighted at having a grown-up playmate their own size. She was actually rather good with them once she relaxed, and he wondered how she’d handle being swamped by them when they were the same size.  He grinned at the thought of little cats ending up in a wrestling pile and the knot in his chest eased.

  
Elias waded through the throng to speak to Lorelei.  What came out of his mouth must not have been his usual bullshit because she didn’t slap him.  He seemed downright courteous, which was unnatural and creeping Remi out more than a bit. Lorelei only nodded to him after Tien gave her an encouraging smile.

 

The senior soldier pulled Lorelei to join the growing cluster of dancers.  While she was willing, it was painfully obvious that she was far from comfortable in her own skin, moving stiffly and keeping her head on a swivel to look for anyone staring.  Elias, picking up on her discomfort, shifted to hide her much smaller body with his own. In thanks, she smiled up at him and shifted slightly closer.

  
His cat wanted to be the one to crack open her prickly exterior and unravel the mystery of her.  The only problem was after seeing her interactions with the pack, Remi seemed to be the only one she wanted to swipe a claw at.

  
The rancid emotions he had stuffed down sprang back with a vengeance, sending irrational jealousy spiking through him.  For some reason, she brought out his inner psychopath, all the dark urges and instincts that he kept chained within. Very few knew about them, and he intended to keep it that way.

 

With a sigh, he rubbed at his temples to ease his pounding headache.  If only he could place the blame on the recent circulation of human supremacy rhetoric, but that would merely be an excuse for his own lack of control.  He told himself that things would be better once she was pack since he disliked having an unprotected submissive female in his territory, which was true, especially with the possibility of active anti-Changeling groups in the area.

  
He felt scraped raw on the inside.  It had been a while since he’d been this spun up in his head and he needed to get that sucker back on straight.  This was a time for joy, not the shadows haunting him.

  
“Leaving already?” Lark asked from behind him.  She had managed to sneak up on him, which was a sure sign that he was off his game.

  
“If you feel the need to babysit, go chase after the cubs,” he growled over his shoulder.

  
“I’m doing my job.”  She let his temper roll off her.  “Need someone to run with?” He shook his head.  He’d prefer a good fight, but in this mood he was likely to shred even a sentinel.  “Remember you have to be back in time to help judge the costume contest.”

  
An affirmative grunt.  Pack bonds were important, especially in such a young pack, but he had to vent this before his attitude began to affect everyone else.

* * *

**WAKE UP HUMANS!**

Our children deserve a future free of Changeling violence.  These animals come into our communities with their drugs and violence, lowering property values, living off welfare, and preying on hard-working humans.  In the name of “political correctness,” we the taxpayers are prevented from standing up to these parasites.

**DON’T BE DELUDED BY A “BRIGHT NEW FUTURE”**

We need to change the country’s liberal policies that are eroding our values.  It’s alright to be human and we need to stop being ashamed of it. Changelings want us afraid and divided to prevent us from having a group identity.  We have been the victims of the other races for too long. They try to divide us, take away our rights, and plan to eliminate us because they fear us.

STOP CONTRIBUTING TO HUMAN GENOCIDE!!!  KEEP THE HUMAN RACE PURE!!!

        -Excerpt from letters sent to residents of Sevier County, Tennessee September 2083

 

Lorel hummed and swayed along to music while she piped bright pink rosettes onto the rows of cupcakes in front of her.  The radio was set to the show of the DJ from the party, a pretty human packmember by the name of Aoife. Country wasn’t her typical choice of genre, but it reminded her of dancing at the party.  She hardly knew anything about Elias, and therefore had no feelings about him one way or the other, yet she couldn’t get the other night out of her mind; not that she was dreaming of the soldier or anything.  

  
She had been completely dumbfounded; no one had ever asked her to dance.  Well, not since that horrible prom night in high school, anyway. While she’d doubted that the leopard would try to pull what her teenaged date had, she had looked to Tien and gotten reassurance.  She barely knew the other woman but trusted that Tien wouldn’t knowingly put her in danger.

  
It had been a long time since anyone other than her aunt had touched her, and far longer since she’d had any physical contact of a non-platonic nature.  Elias had made it clear that he found her interesting and attractive, which she could have chalked up to the promiscuous nature of Changelings. But he had also been respectful of her boundaries even though it was obvious that her limits were far more stringent than that of a Changeling’s, and possibly those of many humans.

  
She kept her distance not just because she didn’t want them to assume she was easy, or that she was going to join the pack, but because it simply felt too good and not even in a sexual way.  At first, Elias’ touch was nearly painful, like her skin was so focused in its need that every sensation was heightened ten-fold to absorb everything at once. Startled by the sensitivity, she had been about to retreat when the song ended, but the ache of the loss had her saying ‘yes” to the next person who approached.

  
The sun had set and red, yellow, orange, and white fairy lights strung between the trees had lit up.  At that point, she’d called it a night with the excuse that she had to work in the morning; while that was true, she had worried that she’d be tempted to go exploring the woods in animal form.  Even if they’d allowed her, she couldn’t permit the cat to take over.

  
Tien had approached her with arms wide in expectation of a hug.  Unsure of what to do, Lorel did her best impression of a statue as the other woman’s arms had folded around her.  It wasn’t a brief embrace, either. It was strong and warm and all-encompassing. Maternal. And she soaked it up like rain after a drought, her skin still starving even after all the dancing.  Although her aunt had lavished affection on her before going travelling, as if she’d tried to compensate for the lack over the years, there was a quality among the Changelings that felt like she was finally coming home.

  
Lorel had let herself relax into the hug and had, had to force herself to pull away, fussing with her clothes to keep from reaching out to the other woman again.  Her cat’s tail had lashed in irritation at the denial, but didn’t act out in any other way, thankfully.

  
At the sound of the door opening, she set the bag of frosting down and headed out front while wiping her hands on a clean, damp cloth.  A woman looked at something on her phone as she approached the counter.

  
“Good morning,” Lorel greeted her.  The customer held up a finger while she tapped something into her phone.  Lore’s customer service smile grew strained while she waited. When she finally looked up, her scent soured before Lorel could offer a sample of berry crumble cake.

  
“Where’s Nora?” she demanded.

  
That was a question she’d heard far too many times, but this time the edge to it had her ocelot’s upper lip curling away from her teeth.

  
“My aunt’s currently on a beach enjoying her retirement.”  The mask wavered as Lorel fought against mirroring the sneer of her cat.

  
“Is there someone else who can help me?” she frowned.

  
Okay, that was a new one.

  
“Just me, I’m afraid,” shrugged Lorel.  “Is there a problem?”

  
“Don’t snap at me.”  Lorel swore that the other woman was two seconds away from clutching her pearls, if she’d worn any.  “I just want to know when someone else will be in to serve me.”

  
What in the name of all that was good and holy?

“Ma’am, I’m the owner,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Right,” she rolled her eyes, then muttered, “I just don’t know where this country is headed.  Animals like you taking jobs from good people.”

  
In an instant, her cat went from unamused disdain to homicidal rage.  Lorel throttled it back, but her eyes flashed yellow-green if the sudden ashen hue underneath the woman’s spray-on tan was any indication.

  
“Ma’am, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”  Lorel didn’t bother with the fake smile this time.

  
“How dare you!”  Her colour returned, going straight to red.  “I’m going to sue for intimidation.” Her shrill voice grew louder and louder until Lorel’s ears protested the abuse.  She stormed out, entering a code into her phone.  


She released the breath she’d been holding only to inhale a lungful of perfume strong enough to make her eyes water.  Her ocelot wanted to hunt her down like a rabbit, but she convinced it that the meat was bad. She propped open the door to air out the store and the obnoxious woman stood in front of the yarn shop next door.  Still on the phone, she turned and the blood drained from her face when she saw Lorel.

  
“Oh my god, she’s following me!” she shrieked.  

  
Lorel rolled her eyes and decided she’d go put her irritation to good use by kneading dough for cinnamon buns.  As much fun as decorating cupcakes for a little girl’s birthday party was, that required a steady hand and hers were shaking with unexpressed anger.

  
The butcher’s block was barely floured when the sounds of sirens pierced her eardrums.  She dusted off her hands and returned to the front to find four cops standing there, each with a hand on a weapon.  Blinking, she froze mid-brush. _I probably shouldn’t offer them doughnuts_ , she thought.

  
“Good afternoon, officers.  Would you like to try the berry crumble?”  She gestured to the silver tray with the samples and bit back a laugh at their bewildered expressions.  Evidently, they’d expected to find her frothing at the mouth from the way the blonde was still carrying on outside to a fifth cop.  They probably hadn’t anticipated a woman who more resembled a librarian than a murderous beast.


End file.
